


Under The Cover Of The Stars

by chraezanty17



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection, Pre-Desolation of Smaug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chraezanty17/pseuds/chraezanty17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their tale is one of contrasts - a prince and a warrior of low rank. Growing up proves to be a long and difficult process, even for immortals such as them. While Tauriel fights to earn respect each day, Legolas is left with a responsibility and a father disapproving of his fancy to one certain common elf. Evil forces gather, yet there is still light to be found in the shadows of Mirkwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feast of Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of first meetings, a misunderstanding, stars and dance.

The first time she laid eyes on him, they were in the presence of King Thranduil.

To say that Tauriel was intimidated was an understatement struggling to meet its equal. She did not note anyone other than her King as she knelt at his feet, head bent, waiting to be allowed to rise. She was fiercely determined to not show any sign of weakness, any indication of fear.

If she happened to look upon an elf equally young as her, clad in majestic robes and remaining in the shadows, as her audience came to an end, she did not take particular heed of it.

The first time she saw him, really  _saw_ , was at the Feast of Starlight. The first one she was old enough to attend, still a mere infant among the elves of both high and low ranks.

Tauriel had been familiar enough with her kingdom's beauty before, but the feast made her realize how limited, in fact, her knowledge was.

Mirkwood was lit up, at first by the soft colors of dawn. Changing from azure to crimson, evolving into a fire of various tones of orange in turn and marking patterns along the sky long before the sun rose. Then, as evening neared and night fell upon them, a cloak of deep blue eloped it while, little by little, stars appeared. Their clear, enchanting light was completed by the moon.

In a way, she thought, the night was much brighter than day.

Tauriel was speechless at the sight of so many of her kin indulging in food and drink from seemingly another world. There appeared to be candles on each table and in every corner of the maze of corridors. No matter how many times she put it to the test and actively sought the source of the hypnotic light, however, her hand met simple cold stone. If one looked closely, it might have a life of its own.

She discarded the thought as soon as it had entered her head. She was at a feast, after all. Not quite a child anymore, harboring fantasies and fairy tales in its heart as a means to escape reality. Not quite, although who was to say a child's strange wisdom is not made to enrich life?

Despite her lower social status and inexperience considering events such as these, Tauriel thought it her well-earned right that she could sit on a secluded bench and watch the others with fascination, drink in hand (at first sight, the liquid looked like water and only as it was illuminated by light it shone in all imaginable spectra of colors and as soon as it trickled down the elf's throat, it became clear it was some potion yet alien to Tauriel; it simultaneously filled her with calm and cheer and its taste was to be compared to the ambrosia of the Greek gods, creatures spun from Men's tales, alone).

She was distracted from the divine drink for no more than a blink of an eye, but by the time her hand wandered across the festive table's surface to grasp her cup once more, it found nothing but empty air.

Confused, Tauriel scanned her surroundings and only now discerned another elf standing mere feet from her. He, unlike most to be encountered in Mirkwood Realm, had blonde hair and held himself in a collected and confident manner. The latter greatly surprised her, for they seemed to be approximately the same age and as opposed to her, he was at ease with the company of those of high rank, almost like he had been raised so.

Furthermore, he held her cup in his hands and was sipping the delicious potion it contained.

"Is it too much to ask to walk along the south wall to claim one's own refreshment?"

The words were not intended to be spoken and, not for the first time, Tauriel cursed her short temper. She quickly composed herself and stood up, facing the thief whose expression had changed from good humor to incomprehension.

It was not until half the company present stared daggers at her that she realized she had made a grave mistake.

The sensation itself was by no means unknown to her, for her temper had been the cause of trouble on numerous occasions beforehand – at those times, however, she had at least been aware of what she had done wrong.

She saw no better way than to wait for a revelation as she sized up the outraged members of her clan, a sea of faces mirroring each other perfectly in their scandal. Tauriel's gaze met the blonde elf's questioningly.

All of a sudden, a wave seemed to ripple through the crowd as the silence was broken when voices were raised all at once, words overlapping to leave the redhead with a headache as most of the cries were reduced to meaningless gibberish. Some was not.

"Such a shame!"

"- foolish and disrespectful-"

"- not aware of who it is she's talking to, ridiculous is what it is."

In retrospect, as she fought the urge to shout at her family to be silent, Tauriel could have hit her head against a wall in frustration when she studied her cup's captor closer. The resemblance to Thranduil was startling. How had she not seen what was so obvious?

She took a deep breath and positioned her legs as to perform a hint of a curtsey while never taking her eyes off his electric blue ones. Some part of her registered that the murmuring had ceased and the celebration continued on as if there had been no jarring interruption – elves laughing and singing, bathing in the moonlight as if in cold water on a hot summer day.

Tauriel had just made towards the south wall to get another drink – she did not plan to offend the stranger with asking him to give her own back – when he walked up to her. She immediately froze, which seemed to be a reaction he was used to, since he couldn't suppress the ghost of a smirk transforming his features. Knowing full well she should hold her tongue, she blurted out:

"Is this kind of situation normal for you? Taking advantage of those lower than you so your life is easier? Only I had the impudence to not know you from sight."

"I believe we haven't been formally introduced yet. Legolas Greenleaf." His voice was calm, with only a trace of amusement giving his emotional state away as he held out an additional cup to her.

Tauriel leaned her head to one side, reconsidering. Maybe he was not as arrogant as she would have had him be, except she still saw no reason to like him. She returned the favor and revealed her name in turn as she hesitantly accepted the cup.

"I did not know it was your cup." He confessed before she could decide if leaving the feast was a good idea or not. He was watching her carefully.

"Oh, really? Since when have inanimate objects acquired the skill to move at will, then? Surely  _that_ was how it ended up on my table." Tauriel teased, relieved to see him throw back his head and laugh. At least she wouldn't be thrown into the dungeon tonight. Unlike Thranduil, who had a tendency to scare her, his relative made for a more pleasant companion.

If he was not the reason one was humiliated in public, that was, she mused. Even in her mind, the sarcasm was thinly veiled.

When he took both of their cups, set them on the table to her left and held out his hand to her, palms up, she could do nothing at first but stare at it blankly.

"Would you like to dance with me?" Legolas asked, his grin widening.

Tauriel hesitantly brought up her own hand to cover his. As she felt him lead her to the part of the hall that was not full of tables and benches, she regarded him from the side.

"What are you doing – saving my reputation?"

"There would hardly be any other reason to dance with you." He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be dead serious when she could see that he was barely holding back from laughing again. Tauriel couldn't help but wonder what it was that amused him so much.

Unthinkingly, she stepped close enough to him so she could lean her head against his shoulder the second she heard the music slowing down. As realization to what she had done hit her, she could not bring herself to face Legolas and remained where she was instead. He did not seem to mind, for he made no attempt to push her away. He held her close and they danced in silence, their movements a single fluid one rather than various interconnected steps. Never once did they pause because one had stumbled over the other's feet.

After what could have been minutes as well as hours the music changed. It was now similar to a merry folk song. It seemed an odd choice for an event such as their feast to Tauriel, but it gave her the opportunity to disentangle herself from Legolas and find out what she had been burning to ask for a while now.

"You always appeared to be so calm-"

"Whereas you are overly emotional?" He remarked, smiling gently. His brashness rendered her speechless for a second during which she wondered how it had come to be that his observation would make it seem like they had known each other reasonably well, considering the short amount of time they had spent together. She ignored his interruption as well as she could for the time being and went on.

"How come you laugh so much now?"

Legolas shrugged carelessly. "For the same reason you only curtseyed before me after people told you who you were treating without due respect, however unwillingly."

Tauriel noted that he rolled his eyes at the last part of the sentence. She supposed his position did not exclusively carry positive aspects with it.

"You didn't know you'd simply  _need_  to in such company."


	2. Tinúviel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas tells the legend of Beren and Lúthien, Tauriel recognizes herself as a princess and overall, time passes too quickly.

Summer was nearing.

Tauriel could feel it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the wind, see it in every tree. The colors of their wood changed and transformed into living, breathing creatures that took on a life of their own as they drew more animals from their lair with each passing hour.

She often found herself patrolling the gates, if only to wander along the maze-like paths of their realm. Retracing the familiar tracks never failed to calm her mind whenever she was in turmoil.

The evenings were pleasantly warm and it was seldom that she returned to the cave at the heart of Mirkwood before sunset.

She did not look up as she heard approaching footsteps, knowing who it was even before he broke the peaceful silence.

"Do you know the tale of Beren and Lúthien?"

Tauriel waited for him to be seated on the ground before she gave an answer, ever so slightly disoriented by a question utterly out of the blue. Still, she would not face him as they both crouched on the undisturbed earth, leaning their backs against the trunk of a tree.

"Not in its entirety. I have heard snippets, but never enough to get a grasp on their story."

His voice remained low, words rolling off his tongue like music rather than speech. She rested her head on a branch and closed her eyes as she listened, transformed into a far-away realm of imagination as she reveled in the enchantment a legend brings with it. Tauriel thought that perhaps she was still a child at heart after all.

She discovered that Lúthien had been the Morning Star of her people, the fairest elven princess to ever walk upon the earth, her memory forever a ghost to her kind. When the mortal Man Beren first set eyes on her, dancing in the glade of the moonlit forest, he fell in love and went on to call her Tinúviel - the nightingale, equally skilled at enchanting hearts and souls with its voice as her. She reciprocated his love and after countless trials – recounted in astounding detail - and her lover's death, she journeyed to the Halls of Mandos to voice her lament. Touched, he freed Beren from the clutches of fate and granted the both of them a mortal life to be lived as husband and wife, an unprecedented event. They had a son, who would come to be the grandfather of Lord Elrond of Rivendell.

The following silence was comfortable and only disturbed by the rustling of trees that she knew they could only perceive due to being of their kind.

"Do you suppose Men have tales similar to ours?"

Legolas pondered this for a heartbeat or two. "I am only aware of fairy tales that deal with good defeating evil and knights coming to a beautiful princess's rescue."

"I will not ever be a princess." She said softly. She herself was mildly surprised when her response was not laced with a bitter undertone, having simply said her thoughts aloud heedlessly, even as they lacked a fitting context.

Out of the corner of her eye, she entertained the notion that the Prince of Mirkwood winced as a shadow passed over his face. Yet when she finally allowed herself to fully take him in with her range of vision, she was only met with the usual level gaze of his blue eyes, as impossible to figure out as ever. Tauriel shook her head dismissively – her imagination must be running away with her.

"Being the princess of swordplay is far more significant than spending your whole life locked away in a tower, isolated from the world until perfection incarnate claims you as his prize. There are roles of more importance in life that need to be played out." She added with high spirits and subtle irony that would have gone amiss on many who merely had a vague understanding of the female elf.

Legolas immediately picked up on the undercurrent of her statement and smiled. "Have you forgotten this morning's practice session?" He taunted while perfectly aware of her not being truly committed to her self-imposed title.

Tauriel threw back her head in defiance. "You still haven't accepted my challenge at target practice." She shot back, not anxious to repeatedly hear of her exceptional defeat.

"We have about an hour of daylight left." He murmured.

An unspoken agreement between them, they rose to their feet in one fluid motion and took off deeper into the forest. The crisp air served to refresh Tauriel and clear her head like little else could. They continuously picked up speed, their shapes a mere blur between trees to startled animals.

It was not long until they reached their destination. They never bothered with actual targets, but rather chose objects instinctively as they took in the clearing. This technique was supposed to train them better, since they would be challenged every day and left in the dark their kind so hated about what awaited them.

Legolas had fought at the side of the one that was named Daughter of the Forest for too long to be in need of verbal communication as far as matters of arms such as bow and arrow were concerned. The elves had already readied the ones they always carried with them and were left with only the task of settling the details of a challenge they had limited time to complete.

His head turned towards an oak with one among many cracks in its bark that had been previously marked as a bull's eye. Before his companion could do more than blink, he had already shot his arrow. He missed his target by millimeters, the weapon's tip springing back from the splintered wood. His face betrayed nothing of the aggravation Tauriel was certain he was struggling with.

Her body was going rigid while her restlessness grew, nerves getting the better of her as she looked around, as if waiting for lightning to strike her down as she had no doubt of her own failure.

She caught a falling leaf between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand and discarded it just as quickly, the tension banished with the sudden movement. In the silence, the cascading flash of green hit the ground with a deafening crash, the sound echoing among the forest that seemed to be holding its breath.

Tauriel released her arrow and it sang as it cut through both the air and the bull's eye.

She had won.

The last light of the day caught her red hair, setting it ablaze. With the crown of fire framing her silhouette, creating the illusion of flames licking at her clothing, she whirled around to perform an elegant, if exaggerated bow.

"I salute you, prince." Her eyes were sparkling with good humor.

"We are even, Princess of Swordplay. One chance victory set against the other." He responded, almost chuckling. "However, we are still bound to duties and are obliged to return to our King."

The female warrior was well aware that he was right – their challenges proved nothing. Neither of them had the superior skill over any weapon. Excellent fighters being constantly put to the test, one was bound to fail one day and be at the top of their game the next. That fact did not stop them from keeping up the habit of dares, steadily aiming higher. It was child's play at its innermost core.

She broke into a run without further comment other than a diminutive smile playing on her lips.

They arrived at their home just in time to witness Thranduil descend from a huge stairwell. He graciously acknowledged their presence as a means of greeting and lazily mentioned for his guards to close the gates.

"Legolas." He turned his back on them as soon as he had beckoned his son, his tone of speech closely resembling boredom. The Prince of Mirkwood followed, accustomed to tending to each of his father's whims in an instant – there was no alternative.

Already his stance was changed and Tauriel knew with certainty that without him realizing it, there was not a hint of childishness in him left, because for that moment he was none less than her future king evoking feelings of inferiority. The common hunting gear would not hide his true rank, not at the side of his father. There, foolish competitions had no place and neither did denial of his birthright.

No matter if he regarded her as his equal, deep down they were both painfully aware of the delusion. She felt a pang of sorrow stab her heart, for they were still so very young. She felt the youth of her comparatively laughable age and the helplessness that came with being trapped every day.

The sight of King Thranduil reminded her with sudden force why it was exactly that she spent her days in the seclusion of the woods time and time again. Any distraction from a forlorn situation would eternally be welcome, after all.


	3. Captain, Warrior, Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel has a moment of weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not my best work. It's fairly angst-y, too.

The smallest things sufficed to trigger nostalgia in her, it seemed, these days. It was a busy spell, no doubt about it – those who would allow themselves the luxury of laziness were fools and told so face to face, Tauriel saw to that. There was tension in her shoulders, a harshness in her manners and a sharp edge to her speech that many a seasoned warrior cowered to be exposed to.

She had lost none of her friends' love, she was gratefully aware. Still, they were compelled to avoid her and give her some space, at least, that was granted out of free will rather than the necessity of combat, where they would be loath to come into the range of her blade. The she-elf was left to wander the outskirts of the woods, for she knew that if she let her feet guide her into the forest's heart, she would rather sacrifice a night's sleep in favor of counting the stars and the feel of grass and leaves against her back as she laid on the ground, hands linked behind her head at the top of the tallest tree.

She sighed, wondering when it had been exactly that she had become so close to bitter. True, her body tended to be exhausted and her mind to be muddled with questions – did they have enough weapons at their disposal? How likely was an attack of the Spiders, now that they had tasted elf's blood? Would King Thranduil approve of her decisions? Yet, the red-haired captain found it in herself to smile. Retracing her steps from what appeared to be centuries ago, she felt as if a great burden had been lifted and she was walking on air.

As she passed a group of elflings, without warning memories flooded her consciousness like a wave, pulling her under.

_"_ _Mellon." Legolas muttered. It was only when Tauriel looked up that she saw he had been talking to himself, clutching the quill with more force than obliged to, struggling to bring the familiar word to paper._

_A small part of her mind wondered, helplessly and however briefly, if his lack of concentration was due to the race of the night before. They had both boasted of their skill and alacrity at some point or other, innocent child's play lifted right out of a textbook. She did not think it likely that they would ever realize this strange idea of a contest when they had spoken of it in jest – that was, she had not until the events prior to that day. The slightest trace of a smirk played upon the corner of her lips as well as the sparkle in her eyes that betrayed her state of mind. Unfortunately, her elders took notice._

_No more than a glance was needed to examine Tauriel's own handwriting, or what passed for it. She had to admit that she had not been feeling especially motivated to put her mind to the task at hand, no matter how simple. Oddly enough, she had the notion that her teacher would have gladly tolerated her questionable spelling, had it not been for the way she had scratched lines along the parchment in the same manner as one may sharpen a sword on a whetstone._

_"_ _Sloppy and without elegance. You must work harder. How is it you can memorize every strategy your opponent might think of in practice sessions, yet fail to correctly write words that are as much a part of you as the stars belong in the sky?"_

_She would not let him taunt her into answering a question they both knew wanted for no reply – her teacher would hardly be interested in explanations as to why practice put a stop to all the restlessness of her being that theory merely served to inflame._

_Among the snickers of the rest of the elflings, she caught Legolas's gaze and caught herself laughing under her breath. Predictably enough, his spelling was without flaw._

_It would never make up for his defeat the night prior, so she hung her head in mock shame, if only to balance out the scales. All in good humor, she was not one to let victories that slipped right through her fingers dampen her mood, nor would it do for it to determine her talents by measure of contests._

_Taking the sheer number of said contests with Legolas and her humble self as the only contenders into account, those particular two bore the significance of a snowflake in a blizzard._

She must not have been frozen, feet rooted in the soft earth as firmly as any birch, for more than a few seconds. Even so, they were enough for both the young ones to gape at her with unabashed curiosity and her to turn on her heel, heading in the opposite direction. To be perfectly honest, it was only then that she had a direction to speak of.

The rasp of her knuckles against the wood was quiet, barely audible for mortals. The sound did not fall on deaf ears, however – soon enough, she was met with clear blue eyes and before she had drawn breath for a second time, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder.

Immediately after she registered his arms gently squeezing her shoulders in a comforting gesture, Tauriel hissed as if in pain.

"What is it?" The concern in Legolas's voice made her smile while none of the joy reached her eyes. They remained cold and distant.

She shook her head and hugged him tighter. "I shouldn't be here." She whispered.

He released her and stepped back to get a better look at her face. Had her eyes not been dry and had he not known her for decades, he would have expected to see her cry. Her voice was distorted, as if someone was choking her, letting only so much air into her lungs as survival called for.

"Why would you say that?"

The captain of the guard uttered a shaky laugh, half-collapsing against the door to shut it out against anyone who might look down on her for a moment of weakness. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground and tucked a loose strand of fiery hair behind her ear.

"It is hardly proper to behave this way in front of my future king. Don't you reckon, my prince?"

Before she had time to blink, Legolas had moved with all the grace of a feline and was sitting next to her, cross-legged. For a moment they were young and without a care in the world, where it was not considered out of the norm for her to rest her head on his shoulder and him to give her hand a gentle squeeze.

His voice was laced with resigned anger, she was surprised to realize. "What's wrong, Tauriel? It is not like you to be as you are now. Please-" He closed his eyes, frowning, "Do not shut me out. Don't treat me like you are beneath me. It makes me question if I do this in reality, and I hate to say these words, be-"

"I'm sorry." She interrupted him, her hoarse voice cracking like a whip through his thoughts. She reached up and cupped his cheek, her fingertips barely making contact with his skin. The Prince of Mirkwood was shocked to see that her hand was shaking.

"I honestly do not know what is wrong. It is everything – the Spiders attacking our lands, claiming our kin. There are thoughts I have given less attention to as the years pass but have never forgotten. I doubt, every day. How can I be sure that this is the right path? Maybe I should be treading a different one. Am I failing you?" It was not until much later that she became aware that in that second, Thranduil had not once entered her head.

Legolas reached for the hand at his face and entwined her nimble fingers with his own. " Tauriel." He said, enunciating every syllable with care so that it rolled off his tongue like a strange song. "I want to ask you for your advice on a certain matter." When he saw that she had raised her head, her eyes once more alive, he continued.

"Which weapon is the easiest to master, if there can be such a thing? A young elf that has seemed to have professed himself my apprentice has developed an obsession of a kind with combat. We each learned from the best and I have an inkling as to what would suit him, but I would still hear your opinion, princess of swordplay."

The way the ancient pet name passed over his lips with such ease made her blink. Hesitation commanded her tone of voice as she fought to remain impartial.

"I would respectfully recommend the common bow and arrow. Not only is it useful for taking down enemies from a distance, but it is also a discipline that demands patience as its chief value. You will find out soon enough if he is passionate about a warrior's life or if he finds it not to his taste, after all." She bowed her head.

Legolas rose, pulling the red-haired she-elf to her feet in the process in one fluid motion. "You have my thanks, and your answer. You won't ever fail me, Tauriel."

Even as she opened her mouth to object, even as she attempted break his hold on her to fold her arms in front of her chest, an obstacle to bridge the distance between, she was still.


	4. Imladris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of distance among close quarters, wanderlust and the beauty of a star or two.

She had known that they would lose the privilege of wandering through the woods at will before long – there was a new generation of warriors to be instructed and abilities yet to be acquired, even at one hundred years of age. No matter what they said about the wisdom of her kind, Tauriel thought, it would not ever encompass reality as it was _. No one_  could master every art, nor tell all secrets of the world. Time was tricky – it paved the way for delusions to form in one's mind, thoughts of invulnerability and almightiness to arise where there was none to be found.

(" _Why are we wise? I don't_  feel  _wise."_

_She could have sworn it was a real memory, once, when she had received an answer to her question – the simple curiosity of an elfling not fully realizing it is the King she is bothering just because she is restless and quite bored. Surprisingly, the sulky trace in her voice does nothing to try his patience. It could have been a dream, and still she liked to think it had been real. Why, she did not have the means to say. Time had long since passed._

" _We see the grand scheme of things since time bears next to no consequences for us. We barely register the decades that pass before our eyes, which allows us a certain distance that those seeking our advice lack. Their opinions are tainted by subjectivity – they are simply too close to pass judgement. Wisdom is not always equitable to the right solution, and those blessed with cunning can distinguish them, but which path those seeking our advice ultimately choose is not our concern, even though most do tend to think we have the key to happiness in our realm. Erroneously.")_

Yet, she was caught unawares despite herself when she had to strive to remember her last voluntary visit to the forest.

Though a skilled warrior even now, Tauriel aimed steadily higher and earned each muscle and each seemingly effortless technique of swinging the masterfully carved blade with hard work and days upon nights of practice. Part of her urged her to rest, find peace, but how could she accomplish that?

She barely crossed Legolas' path these days and it was not because of a quarrel. It was a foreseeable development, if one took his rank into consideration. He had duties to fulfill and a daily routine completely removed from that of a captain. Most nights, she was happy to fall into bed fully clothed to shut her eyes for a moment, a mere second really, before sunrays and her biological clock signaled her to stop her laziness. It was little short of a miracle that she even found the time to miss and wonder about him among the stress.

The next time she had the opportunity to truly spend time with him, ironically, was in Rivendell.

King Thranduil of Mirkwood had been invited in celebration of Lady Arwen's return to her father after having been wandering the sheer endless forests of Lothlórien in company of her aunt Galadriel for millennia. He was obliged to take his son along, certainly, but Tauriel could not claim to have expected him to allow her to make the journey with them. She was left stunned and speechless as her deputy delivered the message, only to disappear into the shadows and from sight before the red-haired elf could draw breath.

Even during the journey itself, she could barely catch a glimpse of the Prince and his father. A flash of fair hair, a familiar sleek bow, a snippet of a private conversation that must have been his hushed voice - they all offered a kind of precise comfort. They told her the story of how life was still taking its course in the woods, pulsing and overflowing with the energy that she so sorely missed. She almost felt like an ancient tale herself – a somewhat naïve young warrior free to bathe in the glorious essence of her kingdom, content with knowing nothing.

* * *

Tauriel had been introduced as a leader, one among many. In charge of the guard, she was far from being on equal footing with Lord Elrond, and yet she relished in the atmosphere of his realm without feeling the lesser for it. She was surrounded by her family, after all.

As all of their kind, the elves of Rivendell moved with an unconscious grace that evoked envy even in the hearts of those that already possessed it. One could not witness one of them in a hopelessly drunken state – nature had simply not seen it fit for their people to be out of control, Tauriel mused. It made her wonder if her assessment of  _emotional_  as a state of mind was even remotely accurate. The thought simultaneously offered great comfort and irritation.

By custom, she mingled with the crowd and as the celebration reminded her of the Feast of Starlight, painfully so, the thought of searching for Legolas had not crossed her mind. She had joined in the songs and tale-tellings and felt as if a hundred years of her age had simply been washed away, leaving her the same female that had first insulted the son of the great Thranduil when he stole one of her possessions.

Out of the corner of her eye, she found her attention drawn to a solitary figure. As she approached the elf with the intention of handing over her cup – words of long-forgotten songs embellished on it amongst most intricate adornments – she experienced a sensation of falling.

There appeared to be a halo of stars surrounding her face, casting it into the warm glow of embers that illuminated her brilliant eyes. Tauriel knew her immediately and bowed her head a trifle too low. Any and all doubt that had remained at the back of her mind of how different the elves of Rivendell were from her own kinsmen had vanished like fog over a river's surface.

"Don't feel intimidated." Her laughter chimed like a silver bell.

"Lady Arwen." Tauriel murmured with her eyes downcast, despite her words.

The daughter of Elrond smiled gently. "I have heard much about you, Daughter of the Forest. There is no need for you to cower before me or anyone, because you have the strength to stand your ground. Were you not the one with the ambition to visit all of Middle-Earth?"

Tauriel lifted her head to meet Arwen's gaze without thinking, a comical expression crossing her face. "My lady?" Incomprehension laced her question.

Her eyes sparkled with good humor. "Thranduil knows you better than you may think. He knows that you yearn to quench your thirst for adventure and you will leave his realm some day. Believe me when I say it can well be worth it."

The surreal shape had blended into the crowd of guests quickly and Tauriel blinked. She casually turned around to face an acquaintance as if they had been having a lengthy discussion long before the Evenstar had interrupted her flow of words. "Do you have the impression that I was mistaken for someone else as well, by any chance?"

Legolas chuckled. "No."

She leaned her head to the right and frowned. "I may have just drunk too much wine." She decided. "This feels like a dream where I don't understand anything."

She excused herself as the first voices were raised to sing a song to Elbereth. Light steps  _did_  tend to go unnoticed and she found herself breathing in clean air as her feet carried her farther and farther away from the hall and into the heart of a garden. She would return to the celebration, eventually, only not yet.

Her eyes were playing a trick on her, an elf's heightened senses betraying Tauriel without a doubt. Still, she could not help but keep her gaze fixed on the infinite night sky as time became meaningless.

A light touch on her shoulder brought her crashing down from the euphoria of her magnificent view to earth and the calm blue eyes she knew well.

"What is it you see up there?" Legolas asked softly.

She shook her head and half-smiled, almost like she realized that not knowing the exact answer to his question was ridiculous. She could just about taste the rain from the night before on the tip of her tongue, and still the sky was clear. She felt as if she was swimming in a silver haze, dancing in moonlight as if in a trance or deep sleep full of dreams.

"The stars are different here. They would remain the same even if I chose to journey to the lands of Men, I'm aware. I do not feel any closer to them than I do at home and nevertheless the world seems to fall away as the sky lights up. There is nothing else to distract from its beauty."

Tauriel paused hesitantly and fell silent even as she made to open her mouth to elaborate on her clumsily worded, contrived explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and criticism would be very much appreciated :)


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